


fool outta me

by peachyteabuck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealous Bucky, Writer Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: bucky and you finally have a conversation about your feelings after you catch him getting jealous about your friendship with thor





	fool outta me

You and Bucky have been dating for awhile. Not a long time, but awhile. You hadn’t officially moved in together yet (you still paid your half of the rent for your shitty apartment), but you still often slept in his room in the Tower. You’ve had sex, but had never gotten too adventurous. It’s good, Bucky and you are happy. You’re in love. No need to push it, no need to talk it further, no need to complicate things.

You’re sitting on the couch, reading some book about the gendered politics of crafting, when you hear a loud  _crash_ in the kitchen. The others are all in other places at far ends of the Tower, and you’re pretty sure Natasha went out to get coffee. But any of them in the kitchen on the common floor? Without you noticing? Nope. Not possible.

Good news is, you trust Tony enough to not allow some stray or burglar to come and kidnap you, so you decide to investigate. You keep your hardcover novel with you to act as a makeshift weapon…just in case.  You’re expecting a rat, or maybe some sort of ghost, possibly a dog no one thought to CC you on the email about - definitely not the god that’s been spooked by a a Nutribullet plastic container thingy that’s fallen from a poorly-stacked cabinet.

“ _Thor Odinson_ ,” you groan, grabbing and gently placing the large smoothie-thing (oh god, what do you call those things anyway? Do they have names?) in the sink. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He looks sheepish as he explains. “Sorry, my lady. It looks like someone in this residence didn’t put…” he gestures to the object. “ _That_ away correctly.”

“It’s fine.” You half laugh, half sigh as you go to hug him. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Thor chuckles. “It has! Please, sit back down. I’ll be there in a minute and you can tell me  _everything_ I’ve missed!”

You smile, nodding and going back to your place on the extremely comfortable couch. Ever the gentleman, about two minutes later he hands you your favorite mug - a baby blue one with cursive gold lettering that says “flight” with little birds on it- with your favorite tea inside. It’s warm under your hands and provides a relief to the ache from holding the book.

“An apology - for scaring you like that,” Thor tells you as you blow lightly at the steam from the beverage.

Again, you smile. “Apology accepted.”

The conversation between you two flows beautifully. You two talk about this and that: about your writing and his kingly duties. About your new book deal and his universal travels. It seems ludicrous, comparing your lives. But he seems genuinely interested in your life - just as you are his.

Book long forgotten, it seems like hours later when Bucky enters the floor with Natasha and Sam in tow. They’re all chatting about some new upcoming training technique they’re going to try with some of the subordinates. Once they all see Thor, they greet him with the same grand gestures and loud voice they’ve always seemed to use with the equally grand and loud god.

Well, except Bucky. He greets only you and only you with his signature peck on the lips, sitting beside you and pulling you into his chest. He’s showered - thank Gods - and he smells like the body wash you bought him. The honeycomb is calming and comforting, much more so than sweat and adrenaline and whatever else got stuck to him.

“How was the workout?” You ask.

He shrugs when he answers. “Good - the usual.”

You roll your eyes. Bucky may not be able to see it with the angle you’re at, but he knows you’re doing it anyway. “Always  _so_ descriptive,” you tease. He smiles, welcoming your chide remarks.

Thor watches the pair of you. You can tell Bucky notices, but neither of you really say anything. He had a habit of staring at things while on Midgard, it became a habit after one-to-many all-too-forward inappropriate questions, mostly made while in public ( _Why does that woman have a metal bar through her ear?_  He asked in a coffee shop.  _Why would anyone want to build a bear, especially little children?_  He texted you when he went to the mall for a first time.  _Why does this text end in an eggplant?_  He questioned when he picked up your phone and accidentally read all of your notifications).

It’s no biggie - at least not to you, so you badger Natasha about her postponing a girls’ night. Bucky, though, doesn’t take his eyes off of the God. He watches Thor with his assassin’s precision, and you choose not to comment.

Soon, your conversation with Thor picks back up. The whole time, Bucky’s muscles occasionally tense. For awhile, you ignore it; You know better than to push anything, so you drop it from your mind for the time being. Later that night, though, you bring it to the surface again as you get dressed for bed and Bucky brushes his teeth.

“Sooo…” you begin, leaning on the doorway to the bathroom.

Bucky spits the black (charcoal was Steve’s new thing, and Bucky’s always willing to be his guinea pig) saliva into the sink. “What’s up, babe?”

You shrug, attempting to remain nonchalant. “What was with you while I was talking to Thor on the couch earlier this afternoon?”

Bucky immediately denies his actions. “Nothing, it was nothing.”

You scoff. “I’m a retired interrogator for the United States Navy. You can’t knock me off your path that easily… _James_.”

Oooooo, full first names are coming out now. This is getting serious.

Bucky scoffs, too. Yours was serious, though. The one he does is obviously an attempt to mock you. “And I was interrogat _ed_  for like, seventy years. You can’t crack  _me_ that easily.”

You stare at him via the mirror, blank-faced. “Really, you’re pulling the Winter Soldier card?”

Bucky shrugs, finally wiping off his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You don’t budge, metaphorically and literally. “You’re deflecting and you know it.”

He just grumbles something unintelligible and brushes past you, huddling under the thick comforter on his side of the bed and turning off the lamp on his nightstand. Bucky’s acting like a small child who just got told he can’t go over to his friend’s house on Saturday because he has to get up early for Sunday mass. Luckily, the only more stubborn person on this Earth besides him (and Steve) is you.

Plus, you babysat until grad school: you know how to handle petulant children. You turn off the rest of the lights and snuggle into bed right beside him, curling your arms around his middle - just like he loves it. He’d never admit it, but James Buchanan Barnes (World’s longest serving POW, Winter Soldier, Veteran, Avenger) absolutely  _adores_ being the little spoon.

When he settles into you, you know you’ve got him right where you want him. “You know, if you don’t want to talk to me, I could just give Wanda the go-ahead to read your mind and spoil all of the pranks you were planning to play on Sam…”

He flips over and gasps. “You wouldn’t…”

“And I won’t!” You assure. “You just have to tell me how you feel.”

“Ugh,” Bucky exclaims dramatically. “Talking about emotions.”

You snort a little, kissing his warm, sweet-smelling shoulder. Damn, you really know how to pick a body wash.“You knew this was going to happen! My mom was a social worker, you can’t hide that part of me for long!”

He growls, then sighs. “Fine. But turn over.” You start to question him, but he cuts you off before a single sound can leave your lips. “I can’t have you looking at me while I say this.”

Listen, you bargain with yourself. Y _ou got him to open up! That’s great. Let him do it in his own way._  Being the loving girlfriend you are, you flip over and face the wall.

It’s a few pregnant moments before he starts, but when he does - he can’t seem to stop. “Look, I know…listen. I was super like, sauve and stuff…pre-war and shit. Talk to Steve, he’ll tell ya. But being under mind control for a Nazi organization doesn’t really like, help your self-confidence, you know? When I met you, it was hard. I remember you, at that party. You looked…oh god, you looked  _so good_  in that velvet pantsuit. And those heels! When Natasha introduced us, I legit almost fell over,” it takes every ounce of all willpower you have not to giggle. You remember that day so vividly: how much your bra hurt, what the champagne tasted like, wanting to jump Bucky’s bones the minutes you saw him. Everything, you remember  _everything_. “And then Natasha threw, like legit  _threw_ all of your books at me once we got home. And I read all of them. Several times. It was just…I remember I wrote down all of my favorite poems and like, read them every chance I could get. I just, you’re so  _articulate_ , the way you use your voice, the way you write. I was…floored. Still am. I just, you never cease to amaze me. And I remember the first time we slept together, and your dirty talking -  _god_. I wanted to stop fucking you so I could write down everything you said. I’ve just never, I’ve never met anyone who could manipulate the English language like you can.”

You wipe a tear from your eye. God, what a fucking charmer. No wonder you let him get it on the first date.

“You’re so…like, you’re like some Greek statue. Carved from perfect marble and so  _precious_. Sometimes I want to touch you make sure you’re  _real_ but I don’t want to smudge you, wreck your beauty. And I’ve always felt like…remember that poem, from your second poetry book. The one about trauma from your childhood?”

You sniffle. That poem, that’s the one he talked to you about on your first date. Normally you felt so uncomfortable when people complimented you, but with Bucky it felt so  _natural_. “That my trauma felt like the jagged edge of a rock at the bottom of the pond; ever present but with no exact location until it was too late.”

Bucky picks up, still facing away from you. “Yeah, I just…I never thought anyone so fucking amazing could love someone like me. It felt like you were a shooting star that somehow fell in love with some stupid cliff’s edge, or some other shitty rock or something. I don’t know. I just…I’m worried that you’ll see me like I see me, and Thor is like…the hottest person  _ever_. He’s just as bright as you are…at least, I don’t know, I remember you and him talking about your writing’s allusions to mythology and I had no fucking idea what you were talking about and I just…I don’t know. I love you, I love you _so much_ , and I’m trying everyday to prove that to you. But I just, I’m not sure how to do that properly, so sometimes I-”

You don’t allow him to finish his sentence. You surge forward, your salty tears mixing with his as you kiss him. Bucky kisses back without hesitation. Both of you are reluctant to pull away, but oxygen cares not one bit about how in  _love_ two people are.

“I think dating a writer rubbed off on you,” you whisper, lips still almost touching his. “Because those words…fuck. If you keep talking to me like that, we’ll never be able to leave this bed again.”

He laughs, deep and husky. “What can I say, I’m a changed man. First the loofah and that body wash, then the yoga, now this…”

You bark out laughter, then sigh happily. “If Thor would make you crack like this I would’ve invited him to Midgard a  _long_ time ago…”

Bucky jabs his fingers into your side, tickling you. “Don’t even joke about that! I’m trying to be tender here, and this is how you treat me?”

You kiss him again, smiling. “Aw, my love. How  _ever_ will I make it up to you?”

He taps his finger to his chin for a moment, then flips you over so that he’s on top of you. “Oh, I think I have a few ideas…”


End file.
